First Day of School
by johngaltstrikes
Summary: Her first day of school.


First Day of School

He sat on the edge of the bed, perfectly still, watching her sleep. The alarm had sounded, but she had barely stirred. He really ought to get her up. He didn't want her to be late for her first day of school. She took forever to get ready in the morning, and would probably take even longer than forever this morning. But she looked so peaceful and adorable...

He would give her five more minutes. If only he had more time. Where had all the time gone? Where had that entire summer gone? Her last summer before she started school. He had known that this day would come eventually, for which he had tried to prepare himself, but he hadn't expected those last few days of summer, especially that last weekend, to slip through his fingers quite so quickly, like sand in a sandbox. When he had been a student, his summers had lasted longer. If only school started on a Tuesday...

Well, he might as well start breakfast. He cautiously rose and tip-toed out of the room, taking one last long look at her as he left the door open. Hopefully the aroma and crackle of sizzling bacon would awaken her, and in a better mood than otherwise.

The bacon almost burnt, he was about to call her, when he saw her sitting at the table in her pajamas and bed-head looking positively pathetic.

"Good morning," he said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible without making either one of them sick.

"Good morning," she said and tried to manage a smile.

She failed miserably.

Most mornings at the breakfast table, they never ran out of things to say to each other. But now, they both just sat and chewed. He pretended to read the sports page; she tried to read the comics.

When a few minutes had passed since she had taken a bite and started absentmindedly pushing her food around the plate, he said, trying to balance a delicate mixture of kindness and seriousness,"You really should start getting ready."

"I know," she said defeatedly, rose from the chair, and shuffled out of the room in her slippers.

He looked down at his plate. He had eaten even less.

He had already shaved, showered, and dressed. Now all that was left was to brush his teeth and gargle, which he would do over the kitchen sink – he had to get that taste out of his mouth – and wait...

He looked at his watch. He called her.

Silence.

He called her again, trying to raise his voice without sounding angry or anxious.

Still silence.

He was about to call her again; instead, he rose and started walking out of the kitchen.

He almost collided with her in the doorway. She was wearing the new outfit he had bought for her as a surprise, and her hair was brushed.

She looked even more pathetic than she had at the table. He tried to put on his best face, but she was too good of a reader.

Before he opened his mouth, she said, shrugging, "Well, I guess we should go," and headed for the car.

"You have everything you need?"

"For now."

They rode in silence. It was the shortest car ride of his life. Funny, he hadn't remembered the school being quite so close when he had done the test-run last night. It literally was right around the corner. Against the school rules and clearly posted warnings, he shut off the car in the drop-off/pick-up zone in front of the school. Outside, kids were shooting out of cars and buses, chasing each other, laughing.

She sat there, neither looking out the window nor at him.

After a few minutes, he handed her a brown bag.

"You don't want to forget your lunch."

The night before, being able only to toss and turn, he had made her lunch.

"Thank you."

Looking at him, she clutched the bag to herself, almost smashing its contents. After a few moments, she started to unfurl it, then stopped.

"Well, you need to get to work," she said.

"I know you're going to have a great day. I'll be right here when you get out – I'll even be early."

"See you right here."

He gave her a kiss and hugged her.

As soon as he reluctantly let her go, before he realized what was happening, she was out of the car, across the schoolyard, into the school. The school door hung open in the wind for a few moments, then slowly closed.

As soon as the door shut, it started to rain. He sat there for a while, squinting through the foggy window, down which trickled raindrops, at the school door.

It remained closed.

When he realized all the other cars had gone, he looked at the dashboard clock. He was late for work.

He drove away below the school zone speed limit.

When he arrived at the office sooner than he expected – there was no traffic for once – no one said anything to him, and he didn't say anything to them. He walked straightaway to his desk and plopped down in his chair, immediately slouching. The framed picture of her stared at him. He couldn't turn it around or over, or put it in a drawer – not even for one day or a portion thereof. He looked away.

He still saw her.

He opened his bag. Inside was a brown bag with her handwriting. He opened the bag and smiled. At least he had lunch to look forward to now.

It was the slowest morning of his entire life. Despite his cell phone, watch and computer clock, he found himself checking the wall clock, sometimes twice within one minute. He hadn't watched the clock this religiously since he had been in school all those years ago. But that really wasn't any longer ago than this morning in the car...

It was also the least productive morning he had ever had. Perhaps the least productive anyone had ever had in the history of Dunder Mifflin, and that was really saying something. Good thing he had gotten well ahead of schedule last week.

Perhaps he shouldn't have done that... Perhaps if his desk was overflowing right now instead of virtually empty...

He thought about taking a nap, even if just for 15 minutes But he wasn't the slightest bit tired, despite getting hardly any sleep the night before. Well, he might as well try. At least it would give him something to do.

Finally, when he could take it no more, he took an early lunch. Hopefully it wouldn't turn out to be too early. He sat alone in the breakroom, savoring his meal. But when Kevin and Stanley entered, even though they sat as far away from him as possible, he went to his car to finish his lunch, which he did. Every last crumb.

The afternoon went by just as slowly and unproductively as the morning. It would be useless to attempt to contrast them. It would be like trying to measure the difference between forever and eternity...

His cell phone alarm rang. He was out the building, in the car, in front of the school. He didn't notice, but his was the first car. He was staring at the school door.

He also didn't notice when his was the last car. The door hadn't opened in a while. Just as he was about to get out of the car, the school door swung open, she was out the school, across the yard, in the car.

"So how was your first day?" he asked, mentally crossing his fingers.

He needn't have asked: her face was an open book.

"Honestly, it was great. It was much better than I thought it was going to be. I didn't cry nearly as many times or as hard as I thought I would. Don't get me wrong – you know how much I loved working with you every day, all day," Pam said. "I wouldn't trade those years for anything, and I will treasure those memories forever. But teaching art is what I've wanted to do for a while now, and you're the one who encouraged me to do it, and I couldn't have done it without you. I love everything about my job – the teaching, the kids, the art – the only thing I don't like is that you're not there. That part sucked. But I think today was the hardest day; it's only going to get easier. But the part about you not being there – that will always suck. I understand why I needed to eat by myself today. Thankfully you make a mean sandwich. And now that I know I can get through it, we can have lunch together sometimes. I can come to your office, and you can come to my school. I'd love to introduce you to my kids. They're amazing, and I think they all like me. To help them cope with being away from home, I had them draw their homes. As an illustration to get them started, I drew this." She handed him a crayon drawing of their home. "I also drew it for me – but I really drew it for you, and I want you to have it. When we would drive home from the office together every day, I don't think I ever appreciated it enough. But now, even though I'll be loving my job, the whole day I'll be looking forward to coming home."

"Beautiful," Jim said, trying not to smear it with a tear. He gazed at it for a while, and then at her. "I'm going to hang this in the office, on the fridge, so I can see it every time I get a drink or a snack or use the bathroom."

"So like every five minutes."

"Oh, you know I can't hold it that long. But first thing's first," he said as he started to drive as quickly as he legally could in the school zone. "Let's get you home."


End file.
